


I Wanna Be Your Endgame

by subtlehysteria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Keith helps the best way he can, Lance is still hurting, M/M, Post Season 8, they help each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 09:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: “Lance.” A gentle hand rests on his shoulder, finally drawing Lance out of his dreamscape.Lance tilts his head just enough to find Keith looking at him. He is crouched in front of him, eye level with Lance, face soft and neutral.Lance sniffs, the back of his throat burning. His cheeks are stained with hardened tear tracks.“Hi,” he whispers.“Hi,” Keith whispers back.*Three years after the war has ended, Lance still feels his grief overruning his day-to-day life. When Keith pays him a visit at the family farm, the two have a conversation that is well overdue and results in a rekindling of a bond thought long forgotten.





	I Wanna Be Your Endgame

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this a little after season 8 came out, then hated it and left it then came back and finished it. It's probably a little rambly but it's mainly just my take on how Keith and Lance would come back together after everything the war has put them through.

Lance?

_You’re too important to me._

Lance, can you hear me?

_I’ll always be with you._

Lance? Lance!

_I love you._

 

Lance wakes up shivering, hair sweat-soaked, eyes stinging. His jaw aches from how hard he had bit back his cries.

“Lance?”

Lance clenches his eyes shut, chasing after her. Starlight hair, crystal blue eyes, a tinkling laugh, a heart so pure that she –

“Lance.” A gentle hand rests on his shoulder, finally drawing Lance out of his dreamscape.

Lance tilts his head just enough to find Keith looking at him. He is crouched in front of him, eye level with Lance, face soft and neutral.

Lance sniffs, the back of his throat burning. His cheeks are stained with hardened tear tracks.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Keith whispers back.

“I woke you up,” Lance says. His throat is tight, voice croaky from disuse.

Keith shrugs. “I was already awake.”

“Liar.”

Keith’s lips quirk. His hair is messy, pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, his shirt rumpled and his right cheek bearing the red wrinkles imprinted by a pillow.

“Was it –”

Lance nods.

Keith begins to stroke a thumb along his shoulder, soothing even though it is a such a small gesture.

“Do you want some water? Or I could call your mom?”

Lance shakes his head, hiding his face in his pillow. “No,” he mumbles.

Keith sighs and Lance can imagine the look of frustration on his face. Keith had mellowed out over the years, but sometimes his impatience would still get the better of him. He’d always been an action guy; get in, get out, fix the problem quick and easy.

But this… this wasn’t an easy fix. This wasn’t something that could be rushed. Grief works on its own time, unknown to its bearer and those closest to them.

“What can I do?” Keith asks, silk-soft.

“Stay,” Lance says before he can think it through.

Keith retracts his hand and for a moment, Lance thinks he is going to leave, but then he feels the mattress sink, Keith settling on the edge of the bed. He leaves a tiny gap between them.

“You know I’m not the best at this,” Keith starts.

Lance finally turns his head, looking over his shoulder to see Keith’s slumped silhouette in the darkness of his room. Keith’s head hangs low, chin tucked, unruly bangs hiding his expression. Or trying to anyway. Being Keith’s rival, his right-hand man, his unlikely friend, Lance had learned how to read Keith. In the nervous ticks and the inflexion of his voice; the things Keith left unsaid that told him more than words ever could. How strange it is to think that once upon a time, Lance considered Keith untouchable, when really, he had been waiting for someone to break down his walls. Lance likes to think that he had at least made a sizable dent.

“You’ve gotten better,” Lance says, trying to smile but it drops too soon to really matter.

Keith brushes his bangs out his eyes, looking at Lance with an unreadable expression. “How long has it been? Since the last dream?”

“A week or two,” Lance answers instantly. He keeps track, of course he does. It’s the only time he gets to see her, talk to her, be with her again.

“Lance… Have you thought about –”

“No,” Lance says, curling into himself, knees brushing Keith’s thighs. “I’m not going to that therapist.”

Keith huffs, but it isn’t a rough sound. It isn’t irritancy. If anything, it’s tired and something else Lance doesn’t have the energy to try and unravel.

“You have to talk to someone, Lance.”

And that’s the tipping point. That’s what gets Lance to finally sit up, to look Keith dead in the eye even though he knows he looks like a wreck. “And who should I talk to?” he grits out. “Do you know anyone else whose girlfriend willingly gave up her life to save a bunch of realities that she’ll never have the chance to experience? I mean, she… she’s the love of my life, Keith.”

Keith remains silent, unmoving. It only angers Lance more.

“Do you know anyone else who has to walk around baring her marks like a consolation prize?”

“You love those marks.”

“I hate them,” Lance bites out.

“No, you don’t,” Keith says. He sounds so sure, so blunt as he picks Lance apart.

“Sometimes,” Lance mutters. “Sometimes I hate them.”

Keith’s hand reaches out, stops. His fingers curl in on themselves like shrivelling leaves before he drops his hand back into his lap.

“No one can say that they’ve experienced what you’ve been through.”

Lance bites his lip, holding back his anger, his frustration with all of this. Why was Keith doing this? Why does he care if Lance wakes up thinking she’ll be there to welcome him still? Why does he care that sometimes Lance goes days without speaking, eating little to nothing, stares blankly out the window until it’s a new day? Why does he care? Why does he care? _Why does he care?_

“But I understand what it means to lose someone,” Keith continues. “I understand losing someone who willingly put others’ lives above his own again and again until eventually, he died trying to help one more person. Just one more.” Keith lets out a huff of laughter of all things, the sound nothing but fond. “Pop was always stubborn like that. He was so selfless. I always admired him for that.” Keith meets Lance’s eyes and Lance freezes, is pinned down by that look because all he can see is adoration. “That’s what I admire about you too.”

Lance’s breath catches. He reaches out, and Keith meets him halfway, allows his fingers to trail over the back of Lance’s hand, his fingers slowly encasing Lance’s, thumb rubbing circles into Lance’s knuckles that somehow hurts but is also calming.

Lance swallows thickly, tries and fails a few times before he finally says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“Grief can blind us to what is happening outside ourselves.”

Lance’s lips twitch and this time, it lingers. “That sounds so Shiro.”

Keith chuckles. “He’s rubbed off on me.”

Lance’s smile broadens. It almost hurts. “How is he, by the way?”

“Good,” Keith says. “He and Curtis are away at some or other beach resort thing before the Atlas flies out again.”

Lance nods, tries not to let that pull in his chest resurface. It’s been a while since he was in space just for the sake of it. Keith, Hunk and Shiro were often coming and going, making time to see Pidge and Lance when they could. Coran would also pop by occasionally to tell Lance about the progress they were making on Altea, to invite him round for tea only for Lance to politely decline, to say “maybe next time.” And each time, Coran would smile and say, “Take your time.”

But that pull… Whenever Keith sends pictures of the newest planet he and the Blades are busy helping, or the dishes Hunk is making and the view from the palace he’s staying at that night… it makes Lance’s chest ache. Because he wants to be a part of that, but there’s a piece of him that is rooted here, on his family’s farm amongst the juneberry fields and the familiarity and safety of family.

 _But they’re your family too,_ his mind would say.

Keith’s your family too, it tells him now.

“That’s good,” Lance mumbles, unable to coax any better words.

Silence drops between them like a heavy curtain, blocking out any prospect of the conversation moving forward. But still, Keith rubs those circles into Lance’s knuckles, and still, Lance’s chest aches and eyes sting and heart thuds.

“Why are you here?” Lance asks, barely audible.

“I came to visit?” Keith says, almost a question.

 _Stupid boy,_ Lance thinks with fondness. _I always need to spell it out for you._

“I mean here,” he jiggles their hands. “Right now. How did you know –”

“I heard you,” Keith says.

Lance frowns. That makes no sense. He doesn’t make a noise. His parents never hear him, Rachel never hears him, never comes to wake him up in the middle of the night to check on him. He’d grown so quiet over the last two years, had perfected it to an art form. So how did Keith –

“Don’t ask me how,” Keith continues. “Maybe it’s got something to do with Red, or just cause of our,” he falters, swallows, recollects himself, “connection… but, I woke up and I knew I needed to come check on you.”

And Lance… Lance can’t argue with that because he has experienced the same thing, multiple times. He’d be out in the field, or helping his mama chop vegetables, or be halfway to falling asleep when suddenly his mind settles on Keith, has this urge to talk to him, go to him, check up on him. And he’d do it. He’d send a message or connect for a video chat or walk to the room across from his and ask Keith “What’s up?” And it always just seemed like perfect timing. Keith needing comfort after having watched a child die because they hadn’t been able to get the medicine she needed in time, Keith’s anger getting the better of him and needing someone to calm him down, Keith halfway through a panic attack or a bad dream or both.

Lance didn’t realise it went both ways. He always thought it was just a, well… a Lance-thing. That he knew Keith well enough to have that sixth sense. But now… now he can’t be sure.

Lance ducks his head, hides behind his shaggy bangs that his mama keeps threatening to cut. “Well… I’m glad you did.”

Keith’s thumb stops, hovering over Lance’s hand and Lance thinks he might have said something wrong but just as quickly, Keith’s thumb continues its circles and he whispers a “Me too.”

Lance thinks on what he wants to say next, has thought to ask for a while now but could never muster the courage. In this quiet moment, however, with Keith – the spitfire, the hot-headed pilot, the untouchable boy in need of a friend – Lance finally has the strength.

“Keith?”

Keith hums, meets Lance’s eye with a curious glance.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Keith hums again, this time in thought. He draws a knee up to his chest, squeezes Lance’s hand and lets go.

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

Lance is taken aback. Firstly, he didn’t think Keith would actually answer, and secondly, the fact that he answered so truthfully. Then again, Keith has always been blunt, straight to the point. He wasn’t one for lying.

Lance crosses his legs, making himself more comfortable. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking. I mean, you don’t have to tell me, obviously, it’s your choice, ‘cause it’s not like I’m entitled or anything but – why are you laughing?”

Keith’s teeth glint white, the moonlight breaking through the clouds and capturing the sharp angle of his jaw, the arch of his brow, the faded scar on his cheek. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” Lance says, looking away. A finger under his chin guides him back to Keith’s face, open, adoration clear in his eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s cute.”

Lance’s face suddenly becomes hot and it’s such a strange sensation, unfamiliar to him now. When was the last time someone made him blush? Made him flustered and slightly giddy with just a look?

“Uh… thanks?”

Keith drops his hand and chuckles again, low and rumbly. “You’re welcome.”

“So, uh…” Lance rubs the back of his neck. “What happened between you two? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Keith considers this, mouth moving as if he’s testing the words before saying them out loud; choosing them carefully. “Nothing. Well, he loves someone else. Which is fine.”

Lance thinks he might say more, but when Keith doesn’t, he huffs in frustration. “And?”

“And what?” Keith asks with genuine confusion.

“And now? Do you still love him?”

“Absolutely,” Keith says it without hesitation and wow… Lance’s heart clenches because of the look on Keith’s face. Its earnest and love-struck and… pure. Lance never thought he would associate such a word with Keith and yet it fits perfectly.

“So, what’s stopping you?” Lance asks because he’s always been nosey to a fault, a romantic at heart that wants to hear every detail.

Keith shrugs. “Like I said, he loves someone else.”

“Yeah, but, are you sure?” Lance prods. “Like, maybe you only think he does. Maybe you just need to ask.” He sits up straight, allows his words to run away with him. “Like, maybe he likes you too but because you never said anything, he didn’t think he had a chance? Like, maybe you guys missed it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still try, right?” It feels like a script, words that Lance knows off by heart and has been waiting an eternity for his cue.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Keith says, quiet, thoughtful. “He’s dear to me, and we’re very close, but, I don’t think he’ll be able to return my feelings. He’s… his heart belongs to that girl, even though she’s –”

“She’s what?” Lance asks, leaning in, enraptured because when did this happen? How did he not notice all of this?

Keith struggles with his words. His mouth is downturned, bottom lip between his teeth. “She’s… she left him. On good terms, I think but… he’s still in love with her. She’s the love his life.”

_She’s the love of my life._

It hits him all at once.

                                                          We had a bonding moment  
                                                                  That’s why we bring our sharpshooter  
                                                                          Leave the math to Pidge  
                                                                                 Thank you, Lance  
                                                                                        Lance – Lance come in  
                                                                                               The Lance that’s always got my back  
                                                                                                      Do you still love him?  
                                                                                                           Absolutely

“Keith…”

It must have been evident in just that one word because Keith ducks his head, clutches his knees close to his chest. He says something, but it’s so soft, Lance can’t hear, or maybe that’s just the erratic beat of his heart pounding in his ears because… because Keith –

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Keith lifts his head, but his eyes don’t reach Lance’s. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Lance shakes his head. “No, hey, Keith, it’s… it’s okay I –” He reaches for Keith, only for Keith to shift back.

Lance drops his hand, his stomach sinking along with it. “I… I don’t –”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keith whispers. “I think I should go.” He makes to stand, but Lance catches his wrist, holding him back.

“Keith –”

Keith tugs, but Lance holds on fast. “Let go, Lance.”

“No! I’m not letting you run away after saying that.”

Keith throws a glare over his shoulder. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You said a whole lot,” Lance retorts and it feels like old times. Those first few months where bickering became playful banter when they were still learning to be partners and friends.

“No,” Keith said, all fire gone from his voice. “You just finally realised.”

Lance’s grip begins to slacken, but still, he holds on. “How long?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Keith says. “I’m your friend, Lance. And I’m okay with that. I don’t want you forcing yourself –”

“I’m not forcing myself to feel anything Keith!”

Keith’s hand clenches into a fist. “Lance, you’re tired and heartbroken and no matter what you say you’re not taking care of yourself. I want to help you if you’ll let me. But I’m not going to do that in exchange for false hope.”

“Do you honestly think I would do that to you?”

Keith’s silence is answer enough.

Lance lets go of Keith’s hand. It hangs there for a second, before falling limply at Keith’s side.

“It’s probably my fault,” Keith says. “When I left for the Blade, I thought I was doing what was best for the team… for you. But looking back now, I wonder, if I hadn’t left, maybe we would have…” He tapers off, shakes his head. “And then I came back and I saw you and Allura hugging and the way you’d look at each other during conferences and I just –” Keith sighs, finally lifting his head, indigo eyes locking onto ocean-blue’s. It's intense, intimate, terrifying, and yet Lance can’t look away. “I just wanted you to be happy, Lance,” Keith whispers. “I told myself that if you were happy, I would be too. I was okay with being friends. I learned to accept that that was all we could be.”

“You’re wrong.”

“What?”

Lance swallows thickly, wanting to break eye contact but unable to, still caught in Keith’s storm-cloud eyes. “You’re not okay with just being friends.”

“Lance –”

“Neither was I.”

Keith faltered, blinked. At that moment, the clouds clear and a sharp beam of moonlight hit him at just the right angle. It’s fucking cinematic, makes Lance think he might still be dreaming.

“What?” Keith says.

“You’re right, about leaving the Blade. I think… if you hadn’t we might have had a chance, ya know?”

Keith nods, although he still looks disbelieving, can’t trust what Lance is saying in case it comes back to bite him. Lance doesn’t blame him.

“But you did leave,” Lance continues. “And it fucking hurt. It hurt so much, Keith. Everyone paired off and I felt alone and useless most of the time. And then you came back, and we just fell into place like,” he interlaced his fingers, presenting them to Keith, “like puzzle pieces, man. And, there were times where I thought maybe you still… still might have felt something more, but you never said anything. And I probably should have just plucked up the courage and asked, but then Allura… she, we started spending more time together, and I felt less alone, less useless. And she cared for me. Not that you didn’t! But… it was the love I’d been searching for. That stupid ‘first love is your one true love’ bullshit. And I love her. There’s always gonna be a part of me that does.”

Keith nods, has not said a word during Lance’s entire speech and Lance is both grateful and irritated because old Keith would have interrupted him, called him stupid or made a quip to derail him. This Keith… this Keith is waiting, is hearing him out and taking the time to consider his words before speaking and it’s both so annoying and yet so endearing –

“But…”

“But?” Keith prompts.

Lance fidgets, fingers pinching the hem of his sleep shirt. “There’s a part of me that still loves you too.”

Keith gasps, so soft, Lance barely hears it. But he can see by the look in Keith’s eyes that he might have just ruined everything.

He scrambles for an explanation, a way to fix this, fix them. “I – I didn’t think… I didn’t think I had a chance with you. And that’s no excuse, I get that. We were both just… we were so fucking stupid, weren’t we? Weren’t we?”

Keith says nothing. It looks like he’s barely breathing, let alone ready to give an answer. But the question hangs, the unasked question weighing both of them down. And then Keith is moving, is sitting back down, closer, his knee knocking with Lance’s. He hesitates before brushing his fingers against Lance’s, stopping his fidgeting. Lance breathes a shaky sigh as they lace their fingers together. You’d think it wouldn’t work, the two of them with battle-calluses, with shaky hands and scarred knuckles. But it does. It feels so right, the way Keith’s fingers fit between Lance’s own. It’s warm and comforting and it causes Lance’s breath to hitch, although the gasp might have been Keith’s, he can’t really tell.

“We were.”

“What?” Lance asks, tearing his gaze away from their hands and meeting Keith’s.

“We were fucking stupid. We’re still stupid.”

Lance chuckles of all things. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are.”

“We’re a mess.”

“Yep.”

“Can’t communicate for shit.”

“What else is new?”

“Love-struck idiots.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, hesitant, afraid of the answer.

Lance leans in, rests his forehead against Keith’s and relishes in the small gasp it elicits.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“F-for what?”

“For taking so long.”

Keith shakes his head causing his bangs to tickle Lance’s nose.

“No, no Lance, you needed time.”

“I –”

“Shhh.” A hand cards through the hair at the nape of his neck and Lance melts into the touch. He’s been surrounded by his family, has met up with friends, but these last three years he hasn’t been touched so lovingly, with such purpose and intimacy and it feels so _good._

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Keith asks.

“Move on from the grief with your dad.”

Keith’s fingers stop, and Lance fears he might have dug too deep, but then Keith picks up where he left off, fingers trailing along his scalp in soothing lines.

“It took a while. I was really angry all of the time. It didn’t make for the best application foster-home wise. But then I met Shiro and it wasn’t always perfect, but he helped. He didn’t fill the gap he… he helped me learn to survive with it.”

Lance nods slowly, letting the words sink in.

“I found family in him. In all of you guys,” Keith says. He turns his head slightly, catching Lance’s eyes. Lance looks back, listening. “And I still miss him, but I learned how to live without him, without that grief trailing after me like a shadow.”

“Let me get this straight,” Lance says, tucking a flyway piece of hair behind Keith’s ear. “You’re saying friendship saved the day?”

Keith huffs, a smile creeping across his lips. “In layman’s terms, yeah. I guess so.”

Lance nods, their noses bumping. “Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not using you to replace her.”

“I didn’t –”

“I want to say that now,” Lance says. “I don’t want you to ever doubt. You should never have to doubt.”

“I don’t,” Keith whispers.

“Okay,” Lance says, lips ticking up in the corner.

“Okay,” Keith says back.

“I can’t… I can’t promise to be better immediately,” Lance continues, “but I want to give you the love you deserve. That… that you should have had from the beginning.”

“Don’t get hung up on that,” Keith said. He slides his hand down, cradling Lance’s jaw. “We’re trying now. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah,” Lance says. And he believes him.

“Lance?”

“Hm?”

“Can I…” Keith takes a steadying breath, looks Lance dead in the eye as he says, “Can I kiss you?”

And Lance… he doesn’t know what to say. This all started so differently, with tears in his eyes and _her_ invading his dreams and now he’s here, trying to bite back a smile because this boy, this boy right here is so soft, his walls are down and he’s baring himself, all those hidden emotions rolling in the indigo skies of his eyes, open wide for Lance to see and observe and finally begin to understand.

When Lance doesn’t immediately reply Keith continues with a stuttered, “P-please don’t feel obliged to. Be-because I know you still love her, and this is - is all kinda new and… shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. You – you probably –”

Lance cuts him off with a kiss. It’s innocent, a close-mouthed kiss, more like a childhood peck that would have been shared at recess. And yet Lance’s heart is racing, and his cheeks are flushed and he’s smiling as he pulls back to see Keith’s mouth parted in shock. It’s cute, how his eyes keep jumping between Lance’s and his lips, how he touches his own lips with hesitant fingers to make sure that did actually just happen.

“You –”

“Yeah,” Lance grins. It hurts a little, smiling so wide. Growth pains.

Keith drops his hand and Lance sees the shiest of smiles. “Can we try that again? Without me internally combusting?”

Lance nods, grin still there as he leans in. “We can give it our best shot.”

Keith meets him halfway, ready this time as they brush lips. It isn’t hot and passionate, it isn’t messy with long-buried emotions finally coming to fruition. It’s sweet and chaste, the budding beginning of something new. Hesitant, but willing to grow.

They part, though just enough that they can lock eyes. Keith’s hands cradle Lance’s jaw and Lance keeps brushing Keith’s wayward bangs out of his eyes only for them to flop back into place.

“That was –”

“Really nice,” Lance finishes. “I… I loved it.”

Keith nods, brushes his nose with Lance’s, causing him to giggle. “So did I.”

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” Lance blurts out. “Like… for lunch or something? Just to talk and… stuff?”

“Like… date stuff?” Keith asks.

“If you want.”

Keith’s thumb dances across Lance’s cheekbone, tracing the star-like freckles resting there. “I’d love to.”

Lance pumps a fist, more of a joke than anything. “Score one for Lancey-Lance.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Keith sighs.

Lance grins. “You love it.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, kissing the tip of Lance’s nose. “Yeah, I do.”

 

*

 

They sit at the back of an artsy coffee shop, separate from the other chatty customers and just talk. Keith catches him up on the latest gossip amongst the Blades, Lance shows him pictures of his niece and nephew. They share shy smiles and, Lance doesn’t know when, but, they hold hands, Keith’s thumb brushing over his knuckles. They hold hands all the way back to Keith’s red hoverbike. And when Keith tells Lance to hold on tight, he does. He wraps his arms around Keith’s waist, hooks his chin over Keith’s shoulder and whispers something sweet in his ear just for him. It has Keith blushing and Lance laughing and for the first time in three years, his heart flutters with the prospect of something new. The start of healing, of leaving grief behind and embracing a love that might not be like his first, but will have its own story, its own place in his heart.

And he couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as [@subtlehysteria](https://subtlehysteria.tumblr.com)


End file.
